


Have I told you?

by alex_wh0



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Feels, Fifth year Andrew, Fluff, Letters, M/M, Neil is a sap, Post-Canon, so is Andrew
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:33:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22812388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alex_wh0/pseuds/alex_wh0
Summary: Set during Andrew's fifth and final year at PSU, when both Neil and Andrew are perched on the edge of uncertainty. Who knew Neil could write?
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 36
Kudos: 202





	Have I told you?

_Dear Andrew –_

Andrew’s heartbeat stuttered, then stilled for a second before thundering in his chest as he regarded the sheet of paper with doubt. Wedged between his pillow and sheets, it lay where Neil’s fingers usually curled under his pillow.

_Dear Andrew,_

_It is a truth universally acknowledged that a man in possession of a lot of time and a good pen must thrash out a letter immediately._

He felt his lips twitch of their own volition, betraying the smile bubbling up his throat, unbidden and surprising.

_You’re sitting at your desk, working on your psych assignment. Did you know that you scrunch your nose slightly when you’re concentrating on something? It’s terribly distracting._

Andrew caught himself mid-nose scrunch and immediately schooled his expression into blankness. Damn, Neil Josten, really. Frowning, he smoothed the paper.

_I like it. Very much so. But then, I like a lot of things about you. That explains the letter, doesn’t it? But I don’t want you to read further if this is going to make you uncomfortable. Toss it in the trash. It’s okay. Although if you’re still reading this, then be prepared._

_Have I told you that I like your armbands? I like the sheaths and the knives they hide. But most importantly, I like what they truly hide. Because all of it is you, and I like you._

_Have I told you that someday, if you’ll let me, I want to trace every scar on your hands, on your fingers? I want to. I kinda like your hands a little too much._

_Have I told you that morning Andrew is my favourite version of you? Your hair looks like a nest that a sparrow has abandoned, you look so pissed off before you get coffee; you’re a grouchy, grumbling, gremlin and all I want to do is softly poke your cheek and kiss you._

Andrew’s fingers trembled, a sliver of warmth threatening to float through him, but he gripped the offending piece of paper tightly and glared at it. His head did NOT resemble a nest, thank you very much.

_Have I told you that every time you put your foot on the accelerator of the Maserati, I feel things? I think I have a thing for speed, or fast cars, or it’s probably just you. I have a thing for you. I HAVE A THING FOR YOU OMG. Fine, roll your eyes. I know you did._

_I like the way you press me into the beanbag when no one is around. I like the ferocity of your kisses, the weight of your hands around my wrists, the way your presence envelopes me. I like it more than Exy, I think [DON’T TELL KEVIN]._

_I like the way you kiss post practice. Like your life is on the line and this is a battle you cannot lose. I like the way your lips claim mine with a hint of possessiveness. Every time, every single time. I like that a little. I like that a lot._

_I like the keys you gave me. I have their shape memorised. Yes, I’m a sentimental fool. Yes, Andrew, I know. Stop huffing. Someday when I understand the concept of willingly marking my body, I’m going to get a tattoo of the Columbia house key. Where do you think I should get it though? Maybe on my hip, so that you can lick it on your way *ahem* down._

Andrew huffed out a dry laugh. The idiot junkie.

_I’m going to tell you a secret. I kind of like the raspberry ice cream you bought the other day. Only that, though. The others, I’ll just taste from your mouth. I like it that you have a sweet tooth, although it beats me why. I like how despite all the weights and cardio you do, your tummy is just ever so slightly soft. I like running my hands over it, but I suspect you know this already._

_I like how your face slightly gets pink, but your ears turn a fiery shade of red when you blush. Yes it does, Andrew Minyard, don’t you dare deny it. It’s a paradox, a contradiction, but I like every bit of it._

_Did you know it has been weeks since I got a nightmare? Have I told you that your presence behind me every night helps? Have I told you that you make me feel safe? Don’t scoff, I know you are scoffing, you fool. You make me feel safe._

_I like how strong you are. My mouth runs dry every time I see you benchpress at the gym. I’m sure you can hold me up against the wall and do things to me. I’ll tell you what things later._

_Have I told you that my first thought every day is of you? But then, most of my thoughts every day are about you. Not Exy, no. You. Always you._

_I like the way you look out for the people you care about. I like how you act stoic but in reality, you are a marshmallow inside. Yeah okay, I should probably hide from you for a couple of days. But come find me anyway._

Andrew squeezed his eyes shut and ran a hand across his forehead. Patience was limited in his world, and he close to reaching the limit.

_I know you’ll hate this, but I like seeing you play. I like seeing you in goal. I like seeing you block it and I liked it when you slammed a shot so hard that our goal lit up in response._

_I like you._

_A lot._

_I like it when you call me junkie. I like it when you insult me. I like it when you frown and I like it when you smile and I like it when you think you look blank after four shots of whiskey, but your lips twitch anyway when you find me looking at you._

_I know you’ll be leaving to go pro in under a month. And that devastates me. The four days you were in Chicago this past week was bad enough; it makes me shudder to think how I’m going to spend the rest of the next year without you constantly snarking at me._

_But I want this to continue, whatever ‘this’ means to you._

_You know eloquence is not my strong suit. My repertoire is limited to hot-headedness at press conferences and throwing barbed insults at insolent assholes. But I really hope what I’m trying to say came through._

_You know how they say that the whole is greater than the sum of its parts? Now read through this again and draw your own conclusions._

_Yours,_

_Neil Josten_

_P.S. I like you more than anything._

Andrew drew in a shaky breath, tracing “ _yours”_ with his index finger. He got down from the bed, rooted around his bag for something, took a deep breath and left the room.

**

“Andrew,” Neil murmured, running his fingers across Andrew’s shoulder blades. He whimpered as Andrew licked into his mouth hotly, fingers twined in Neil’s hair, tugging him closer and closer until there was no space left between them.

When they broke apart, gasping for breath, Andrew pushed something into Neil’s hand, closing his fingers around the object.

Neil opened his hand to find a key glinting on his palm, and forgot how to breathe.

“If this is how you react every time I give you a key, you’ll stop breathing, junkie,” Andrew said quietly, lighting a cigarette, feet dangling over the ledge.

“Andrew.”

Andrew turned to Neil, and took a long look at him. “For when you come visit me in Chicago.”

Neil gripped the key tighter and Andrew rolled his eyes, but added quietly, so softly that Neil would have missed it if he weren’t so attuned to Andrew’s ways, “I like you too. Idiot.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I don't even know. I'm a sap. Did you like this?
> 
> I'm on [Tumblr](https://alex-wh0.tumblr.com/) and on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/alex_wh0). Come say hi


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